This is a true story. The actual names of the culprits have been omitted to cover their shame. They know who they are.
Isn't it fun to go places with friends? A movie or dinner out can be a delightful event. Our story begins with our dinner date with our friends Bill and Melinda. Always frugal, we decided to ride together in one vehicle to the Mexican restaurant in the next town. We drove our car, with Bill and Melinda sitting in the backseat.
Our dinner was enjoyable and being the old geezers that we are, by the time it was over we all were ready to go home and hit the sack for some ZZZ's. So, we all piled back into the car, each of us sitting in our original seating configuration. We were chatting on the way home about various topics like the economy, our kids, etc., when it became apparent that someone had "let one".
We were in a terrible spot, and I suppose the tooter was too. I can imagine the dilemma they went through: "Should I let it loose, or risk blowing up?" Obviously, he or she chose the former. It doesn't take long for an aromatic gift to waft around inside a small vehicle, and unfortunately for me, I have a very sensitive nose.
My first guess was it was my own husband, but this ill wind was more vile than anything he had ever done in the past. What's more, all of us in the car were in a social strait jacket. I mean, what do you do when you know someone has pooted a stinky and no one fesses up? There were no recriminations by either spouse in the backseat, and this was of the SBD category (silent, but deadly) so whoever did it was remaining verbally silent.
It was a cool night, so it wasn't like I could open the car window, and besides, we have air conditioning, so I didn't want my husband berating me for playing "freeze out" with our passengers. There was nothing I could do! No one was going to open a window and take responsibility. This was low. Lower than low, it was disgusting. Whoever it was probably needed to get home ASAP and retire to the restroom.
As soon as Bill and Melinda got out of the car and into their own, my window was down and I was gulping in fresh air by the lungs full. I turned to my husband right away and said bluntly, "Did you fart?" He said, "What??". It was then I knew that his threshold for foul air was higher than mine ever will be. I mean, he makes me smell the food in the refrigerator before he'll eat it. Ugh! His answer to my question absolved him from guilt, which then left us knowing who might have been the guilty parties.
If this had been almost anyone else we knew, we would have just giggled and gagged and opened all the windows. If it ever happens again, to heck with social graces and preserving friendships, I'm going to declare a "Code Brown", or say I'm having a hot flash and that window is comin' down!
